Not a Monster
by Banescript
Summary: AU. The creature is a human that underwent extensive postmortem surgery before revival, and behaves as a human with amnesia. He struggles to figure out his place in the world as Victor Frankenstein runs test after test to better understand exactly how correct his theories were. Not entirely sure if I will continue this or just leave it dead in the water.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I do not own Frankenstein. I have never owned Frankenstein. Undoubtedly, I never will own Frankenstein.

* * *

The first thing I saw was a crackling blue light. My eyes were already open when I woke up. It was the middle of a storm. The roaring thunder and torrential rain were being challenged by howling machinery all around me. I was numb and aching so bad that I thought I must have been sleeping for days. There was a scream, too. I think it was mine, but it didn't sound like my voice.

I closed my eyes and hoped that I could sleep a little longer. My left eye felt swollen. My eyelid barely covered it. The numbness was slowly fading, but it was replaced with lines of pain criss-crossing my entire body.

I tried to move a little, but I was already moving. Convulsing, more like. And I was tied down. Just as I noticed, it stopped. The blue light was gone now. In its place was a dim, flickering yellow one. Suddenly it became much dimmer, and I felt something press lightly on my chest.

Then it spoke. "It's... alive. It's... _he's_ breathing! We've done it!"

I opened my eyes again. They were painfully dry, a fate shared by my mouth and throat as well. "Wel an a? Wa apen?" was all I could manage. My body's numbness had stopped fading before it was gone. My tongue felt like an awkward worm squirming in my mouth. Even so, judging from the pain I still felt, it was a blessing.

The man above me scrambled away. My eyes couldn't focus well enough to see him, but I sensed a confused cocktail of emotions radiating from him. Pride, wonder, fear, it didn't make any sense. He didn't seem to understand what I was asking, not that I could blame him. I tried again, speaking slowly and articulating as much as I could. "Werl am a? Wa happen ta me?"

His response was not immediate. It was almost as if he didn't expect me to speak. I couldn't tell if it was the wonderment or the fear that gave him pause. Several long seconds later, he responded. "You are in my laboratory. What happened to you does not have so simple an answer, I'm afraid. In time, I will tell you. Now though, please allow me to check your vital systems to make sure that they're all functioning properly."

I grunted an affirmation, and he went about reading the displays on several different arcane contraptions. Someone joined him by the machinery, and they began whispering to each other. My eyes began to feel heavy, so I closed them. Around me, the world faded into nothing.

* * *

I woke up on the same table. The numbness was still present. That wasn't much of a surprise, though. I blinked a couple times to try and focus my eyes better. It worked better than I had expected. I looked around to see if the man was still there, but he was either gone or in an area the restraints wouldn't let me look.

The pain hadn't faded in the slightest, but I was becoming more used to it. I wondered briefly why I was restrained, and then remembered my convulsing before. It was most likely to keep me from falling off of the table.

 _What happened to me?_ I thought again. The man had said he'd tell me later, but I desperately wanted to know. My body didn't feel right. I felt like a children's toy with pieces that didn't fit together quite correctly. That was probably a result of whatever terrible event befell me. I couldn't remember, though.

I tried as hard as I could to remember something, _anything,_ but nothing presented itself to me. _I suppose whatever happened hit me hard enough to cause amnesia_ , I found myself thinking. There wasn't much to do, so I closed my eyes and hoped that sleep would continue to give me respite from the pain. It took perhaps an hour before sleep finally cradled me out of consciousness. It was a dark, dreamless sleep, but it was much better than being awake.

* * *

The next time I woke up, the man was there. He was checking my injuries, I think. I could feel his hands gliding gently over where all of the lines of pain were. I didn't know how greatly I was injured, but I had some inkling from all the pain and the bandages that covered every visible part of me. It must have been a lot of work to piece me back together after whatever happened. I found myself looking at the man with quiet respect as he continued his inspection, not wanting to interrupt him.

He had bedraggled dark brown hair. It was shoulder length, but tied back into a haphazard tail. His eyes were grey-blue, and faintly blood-shot. He had sharp features and sunken eyes. Most of his tall form was covered in a too-large stained lab coat. I'm sure that it was formerly white, but now it was mostly coated splotches of yellow and grey and brown. His fingers were skinny and angular. I had the feeling that he had forgotten to eat many of his meals for quite a while.

But even though his form displayed his lack of care for himself, his meticulousness and the gleam in his eyes showed how driven and caring he was. When it appeared that he had finished, I cleared my throat to gain his attention. It was a vile, dry noise, but he didn't seem to mind. He knew better than I did what my condition was.

"Ah, you're awake," he greeted me with a tired voice that sounded much too deep for his build. His words sounded like he was forcing his breaths to form words, rather than speaking as a common practice.

"Y-yesh," I responded, a voice far deeper and much more hesitant, "Ca-an you tell-l me what ha-happen-ed?" The words formed themselves better, but speaking was still incredibly difficult. My jaw felt tight, constricting the motion of my mouth. The flat noises of my words were still recognizable, fortunately.

"Of course, dear friend, of course..."

* * *

"You are the first to ever undergo this new procedure of my devising. I have harnessed lightning to produce a powerful enough electrical charge to revive a human person who was previously deceased. It was impossible to many, and yet science expands our knowledge every day. You are a testament to that, dear friend.

"But it was not so simple as that. Your body was… broken. In need of extensive surgery. You would have been unable to survive even if I did bring you back to life. So the surgeries were performed prior to your revival. In fact, while your body in general is approximately two months old, many of your organs and both of your legs are only one month old, and your left arm and eye are three weeks old. Your brain was acquired just prior to the procedure five days ago.

"If all goes well, your body should become more or less acclimated to its new parts within perhaps as little as another month, although you will most likely be unable to function without any difficulties for another two thereafter. Your body will need that time to remind itself it's alive.

"These are all estimates of course, as, if I may remind you, dear friend, you are the first to undergo such a procedure as this. It may be difficult for you, but I promise I am here to aid you in that transition. I promise this upon my name: Victor Frankenstein."

* * *

Whatever I had been expecting, it had not been that. It was so otherworldly, so unfathomable, and yet… I had no reason to disbelieve this man. He very much seemed the part of a genius scientist producing new and radical medical procedures. It would explain everything that I felt. My body was telling me that it wasn't the same as before. Not that I remembered anything before then.

"Tha-ank you, Fr-Franke-ensht-shtein," was all that my bewildered mind could contrive, but he didn't seem displeased. In fact, he was practically emitting pride. He nodded to me with a quiet smile on his face, and then moved around the table to begin checking my other side. I closed my eyes again and rested. His inspection continued on long past when I fell asleep, I'm certain.


	2. Dead Man Walking

**A/N:** I do not own Frankenstein. I have never owned Frankenstein. Undoubtedly, I never will own Frankenstein.

I have a one day break between assignments, and I've been thinking about this for a while, so here you go. New chapter. Only took a couple of months, right?

* * *

A week and a half ago, I was dead. I had accepted this as the truth. It was bizarre, though, to think about death in that manner. Death was an absolute, unconquerable, the tyrant lord of man and beast alike. Yet, death's reign was challenged by the doctor. Frankenstein's brilliance allowed him to wage a war against nature, itself. I was simply the first battle. Death's adamantine crown displays cracks in my mind now. If death was the lord of all men, though, what would that make his supplanter?

Regardless of what his eventual title would be, he was right beside me, undoing the restraints for the first time. The contrast of his cadaverous hands to my previously lifeless ones was stark, to say the least. Not that I was particularly large - immobility had defeated my muscles over the long months of dead - but he was so... thin. A wisp, neither here nor not. The thought flashed through my mind that he was not quite human, and indeed, how could he be? Death was not an obstacle to be surmounted by mortals.

As the last leather strap ceased its restriction of my right arm, I gently lifted it. It screamed at me that it was not ready. My brain urged it to believe it was. It rose, slow as a ghost ship through a midnight fog, and I brought it in front of my eyes. It was still wrapped carefully in bandages to prevent infection, as I had to be stitched up in a couple spots to prevent my skin from splitting any further when my body was bloating after its death. I flexed my fingers, again gently. They curled, prompting a strained smile from me.

I was now unstrapped enough to sit up, probably, but I would need assistance for that. While I waited, I decided to inspect my other arm similarly. It did not move, and my shoulder protested in pain instead of soreness. I had forgotten that it wasn't the original arm for this body, and it would need time to heal. I would have shrugged if both shoulders would agree to move at the same time.

Frankenstein's hand was on my shoulder, "Are you ready, dear friend?"

A nod was all the prompting he needed. We jointly elevated my fragile shell upwards until I was sitting on the edge of the table. It was taller than it perhaps should have been, but maybe that was necessary for the apparatus. I glanced around me. Most of the machines had been moved against the wall, no longer necessary. As Frankenstein stopped supporting me, my core took on the full weight of my torso. It did not appreciate the additional strain, but it held.

My eyes welled up with liquid joy, overflowing its bounty down my cheeks. I had no words for this. I could move. I was stable. I was certifiably _alive_. I looked at Frankenstein and saw that he was in a similar state. For a few minutes, I reveled in this moment, and there was nothing else. It helped that I only had a week and a half's worth of memories, and I had slept more than two thirds of that time. Eventually, though, a new ambition grasped my heart.

"May I shtand?"

Frankenstein's forehead creased as he considered, but it didn't take long for him to say, "Of course, dear friend, allow me to support you."

With his help, I gingerly lowered myself to the ground. The stone floor was cold to my feet, but I only barely felt it. Partially because my sense of touch was still spotty and partially because I was _standing._

I doubt there are many men who remember the first time they sat, or stood. Their parents do, most assuredly, but they themselves? For all intents and purposes, this was that time for me. Frankenstein, I suppose, fulfilled the role of the parent in looking on with joy, but it was strange to think of him in that way. Even with all of his otherworldliness, he looked so _young._

* * *

My first step was hesitant and heavy. This body was a different shape from my last one; it was taller and thicker. Regardless, though, walking in a strange body is not as difficult as one would first assume it to be. Especially with the aid of another.

"Will I shtay elshewhere, now?" My voice, I think, would never truly become normal. Maybe after more time using it, it would be a closer approximation, but I had to concentrate in order to speak for now. My throat wasn't as dry as before, but I suspect it was hardly pristine, and my vocal chords are worse, if anything. My words came slowly, too, since I was actively aware of my tongue's motions in my mouth.

"Of course. There's a room nearby that's been prepared for you."

We went to the room, my steps perhaps jerky or stiff, and loud, but without much difficulty. Frankenstein used his free arm - the one that wasn't supporting me - to open the door. It was simple, but the furniture was well-made. The thought hadn't occurred to me until right then, obvious as it seemed in retrospect, that Frankenstein was probably a noble.

There was a small bookcase beside a bed, and a desk with a chair. Some candles were on the desk for light, were I to ever need them. It may not have been much, but it was more of a home than I had ever had. Considering the only other home I knew was a table... which I had been strapped to.

I sat on the bed. My legs had decided that the short sojourn was enough for a lifetime. My aching body decided that I should sleep soon, even though I'd only been up for at most 8 hours while Frankenstein had run tests to see if I was ready to move. I glanced up with gratitude at the man. He smiled down and said, "Tomorrow, we'll start physical therapy. Until then, do as you see fit, dear friend. I'll have some food brought up shortly, since you don't have machines to deliver nourishment directly, anymore."

"Thank you, Frankenstein."

He patted my shoulder, "Victor, please. I've known you all your life." He chuckled at his own joke. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't, too.

"Very well. Thank you, Victor."

* * *

I was reclining on the bed when the maid came in. I propped myself up to greet her, and upon seeing me, her eyes went wide. To her credit, that was the most that she did before curtsying slightly, "I've brought dinner, m'lord."

I smiled reassuringly. She shrunk back a little, though, so perhaps it wasn't very wise of me. I suppose I did look a corpse walking, because I in some part was. Regardless, that was something to consider later.

"Pleashe leave it on the deshk. Thank you very much."

She did so, and then left as rapidly as was appropriate. Or perhaps a little faster. It was of no real consequence. Eventually, I won't look as grotesque, I hope. _Or at least my character will profess a soul as beautiful as my form is ugly._

I sat up. With no small effort, I raised myself off of the bed and crossed the short distance to my desk. I took a moment to appreciate the aroma of the food. The meal was somewhere between simple and extravagant. The meat appeared to be veal, with a sauce that seemed to be made with wine and some onions. There was a small salad and two rolls. Some wine - probably the same kind that was used in the sauce - served as my drink. The bottle declared it to be called Blauburgunder.

I picked up the fork and the knife. It was strange that it felt so... normal. I couldn't particularly feel the cutlery, but simply using it made me feel like I was on the road to recovery - as indeed I was. My hands were suffering from faint tremors, but that didn't prevent me from cutting a bite of veal away at placing it in my mouth. I closed my eyes and savored it as if it were a gift from the gods instead of human hands. My sense of taste was still dull - as all but sight and hearing have been - but nonetheless, it was delicious.

As I continued with my meal, I felt a smile cover my face again. It was good to be alive.

It took me a while to eat, with my reduced dexterity and dedication to savoring food instead of devouring it like a base animal. My drowsiness had apparently been increased drastically while I was otherwise occupied. It took me a while to muster up the strength to relocate to my bed. I tucked myself under the covers, and then my energy was spent. After my eyes closed, it couldn't have taken more than five minutes for dreams to overtake my conscious mind.


End file.
